


Ship's Mast

by tainry



Series: Borealis [3]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Don't Try This At Home, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5846098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tainry/pseuds/tainry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikaela has watched <i>Deathproof</i> because of course she has. And now there's something she badly wants to do with Optimus!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ship's Mast

**Author's Note:**

> I'm preeeeeeetty sure I intended this to be Borealis-compliant? So I'm sticking it in as if it were. Early days, though, chronology-wise. ;D

Shining chrome, vivid blue running lights. That paintjob. Flames. Yeah, that was subtle. Hiding in plain sight. Or not. Mikaela smiled, and slowed as she passed him, running a fingertip over the top of his grille. A few months ago she wouldn’t – quite – have dared do even that much. But she’d had far more intimate contact with Prime last week, so a little rubdown at this point was peanuts. She didn’t even leave fingerprints. But then that wasn’t really chrome. 

Last week.

She bit her lips, blood buzzing with the question she had been working up the courage to ask for days. Since seeing that movie. She wouldn’t even have to explain. He had the entire internet in his head. She had her Caf*Pow in hand, a long, deserted stretch of Nevada highway lay before them, and there’d been no Decepticon activity for weeks. He was better than Bee at remembering to let her open the driver’s side door. She set her drink in the holder but didn’t step all the way into the cabin, poised on the running board, one hand on the wheel. More chrome there, and stuff that looked and felt like leather but didn’t smell like leather and really, really wasn’t. 

“Optimus?”

“Is something troubling you, Mikaela?”

Of course. He’d been…oh, she didn’t know, listening to her heartbeat, counting her breath rate or something. Unlike Ratchet, at least Prime didn’t say anything embarrassing about it. “I…want to ask you something. A favor. Sort of.”

“Please do not be anxious. You may ask me anything. I will answer to the best of my ability.”

“No. I mean, yes, I know you will, but what I mean is…I want to do something. With you.” Oh god, that sounded bad. There was no way this wasn’t going to sound bad. It could only get worse. “Um, I mean, there’s a thing I want to try and I need your…help.” Oh god oh god oh god. Worse and worse. “Because if I do it with _you_ I know I’ll be safe.” No, that wasn’t helping. She should really just say it. Did his dash lights flicker? Was that a worried angle on his gearshift? She really shouldn’t be looking at his gearshift. Definitely not the gearshift. Focus on the Autobot sigil in the center of his steering wheel. Not the gearshift. Sigil! Sigil sigil sigil! Oh god. 

“Mikaela?”

Oh god, how long had she been standing there, wobbling, staring at his gearshift? Too long, however long it had been. “Optimus, I…I want to…” Oh god, no, there was just no way to say this so it wouldn’t sound like some kind of…alien robot come-on. Or something. “I want to play ‘ship’s mast’. On you. _With_ you! I mean with you!” She even had gloves and an extra belt in her purse; a long, sturdy one she’d swiped from her dad’s closet. Optimus had a wide cabin; two piss-ant little wussy belts wouldn’t reach. 

There was a pause.

“I could ask Bumblebee,” she said, playing her next card, hating that she was trembling, but at least it wasn’t really fear. “That would be the more…traditional…vehicle actually. But I…I know you’d…” Never let her fall? Like under the bridge? Well, that hadn’t been his fault. Damn helicopters and their stupid down-draft. He’d been new to the planet, hadn’t fully worked how squishy humans were into his reflexes. He’d tried to catch them with his foot, but she and Sam just hadn’t had the speed or strength to catch hold. 

“By all the data I am finding, what you wish to attempt is very dangerous.”

Oh god, he’d gotten out his “I Am Disappoint” voice. She wasn’t going to whine. Or beg. She was just asking. “On a regular car, yeah. I wouldn’t ever try that on a regular car.” And if Bee said no, there was always Jazz. Jazz would definitely say yes. The only problem with that was – what would he ask her to do in return?

Another pause. What was he calculating? She realized suddenly that he had not in fact said no. Yet. Maybe he was waiting her out. He wouldn’t even start his engine until she was seated and buckled in, he was that careful. He was millions of years old, he could wait for hours and it wouldn’t seem like a long time to him.

“Why?”

Oh ho! Curious Prime was curious! “Because, like I said, I’d never do something that dangerous on a regular car.”

“Why do you wish to do this at all?”

“Beeeeeecause…” Um, yeah, how to explain that? It wasn’t just the movie, not exactly. “Because it’s really, really dangerous. And it looks like fun.”

“The ‘adrenaline high’ phenomenon?”

“Is that what Ratchet’s telling you?”

A very slight pause. Were his dash lights an embarrassed hue? “It is apparently a common behavior among human young.”

He didn’t say about it being mostly young males. They’d already had that little chat. They already found sexual dimorphism odd. Alien. Maybe not in a bad way, but she didn’t think they were used to it yet, and all the stuff that went with it. Because to them having only two basic shapes for people to come in was…kind of limited and sad. So Optimus always played the safest, most diplomatic card when that came up, which was usually not to bring it up at all. Smart robot. 

“Yeah. But, notice how I’m going for the safest option?” She shifted her weight to her other foot, like maybe she was going to complete her hop into his cabin finally. There was no bounce in his frame, no sign he noticed her weight at all. Flattering, but also really amazing shock-absorbing systems. “I’ve never been surfing, but you know I like to ride my Vespa. There’s something about going fast, feeling the wind on your skin. It’s a…” Oh here we go. “It’s a kind of freedom.” Dirty pool. She licked her lips. That would either go over well or he’d see what she’d done there and call her on it. She’d seen him fluster hardened military types with his searing honesty and uncanny perception of human behavior. And the Dad Voice.

“I see.”

Still no “no”. She opened her mouth, remembered just in time not to start in with a drawn-out pleeeeease. “Just for…for six minutes.” She bit her lip again, thinking she should have said ten, but longer than six and her grip might…not be reliable. She knew she was strong but she wasn’t a stunt-woman either. “On your hood.” His roof was sort of tempting, but there was that big sun-shade thing to navigate. Of course climbing around the mirrors was going to be interesting. Maybe he could fold those flush to his sides. Lying spread-eagled on his hood at whatever miles per hour he thought most prudent, even if it was only 35? 

So. Hot. 

“Is this part of the human concept of ‘play’?”

“Yyyyyes. Yes! That’s exactly what it is. It’s a…an Essential Experience!” This is what she got from hanging out with Sam. Capitalized nerdity. 

“Very well. Six minutes.”

Was that a yes? It was a yes! No whining, no begging! She kept her squee to what she hoped were subvocal levels but he could probably hear anyway and at last completed her hop into his cabin. She dutifully fastened the seatbelt, placed her hands respectfully on his wheel and wriggled happily into the seat as his engine roared to life. 

They had left the Stop-n-Rob far behind, found themselves a nice long straightaway. Optimus probably knew where the traffic was and wasn’t. He rolled down both windows. 

She was sure she was grinning like an idiot. She was definitely an idiot. Like a fox. A foxy idiot, that was her. She punched the seatbelt release and fished the extra belt out of her purse along with her gloves. 

“I would feel more reassured,” Optimus said, “if you employed the anchoring devices I will provide.” Dark grey cables slid out of panels in his doors she hadn’t known were there, weaving themselves into flattened straps that spliced themselves into coiled loops. The nearest one fitted itself to her forearm, giving her plenty of slack for maneuvering. The other snaked out the open window and onto the hood, waiting. She slipped on her gloves anyway and looked at the speedo. 35. Chickenshit. Beggars, though, and maybe 35 would be plenty for getting out there and into position. 

She crouched on the seat, reaching up to lay a hand flat on his roof. Breathe. Breathe. This would work. It would work and it would be awesome. The wind hit her like a broadside as she levered herself out to sit on the sill. Yeah, 35 mph was plenty fast right now. Give her a minute. Or several. She was going to have to get up on the roof after all, in order to get down to the hood. Because she could see just what would happen if she tried to swing around the side mirror and vault up there in this wind. Starting out on top didn’t count, she reminded herself, biting down on a giggle. 

To the roof! More scramble than catlike grace, Mikaela found herself up there with both arms wrapped in Prime’s safety cable with only half a notion of how she’d gotten there. Maybe he’d helped? Later, he would deny it, stating part of the point of the exercise had been for her to do all the clambering about on her own. He’d just been there to make certain she lived to talk about it. 

The sun-shade was hot against her legs, desert sun hot, but wind-cooled, or maybe Optimus routed the heat energy somewhere else. She slid down his windshield, momentarily feeling bad about how she must be leaving scuff-marks with her sneakers, except she wasn’t and that wasn’t glass just like it wasn’t chrome and would she quit being such a great-grandma and get her ass down on that big damn sexy long-nose? Yeah. 

Down she went, scooting on her bum, until she was spread out, her heels instinctively trying to clamp down on either side of his grille. The straps had her, though, comfortably firm and reassuring. “Faster!” she yelled. “FASTER!!!” The huge engine beneath her roared, alien parts mimicking pistons and internal combustion and damn if she wasn’t gonna combust internally, baby! Legs up for Transformer bingo! 

The wind blew her shirt up her body, air cool but sun hot on her bared midriff, and she wriggled into it, howling and shrieking in exultation. Couldn’t he feel it, too? Even with his big, blunt shape, didn’t the wind feel good roaring through his body? She bet he could, bet it did. “FAAAAASTERRRRRRR!!!”

His engine rumble shifted again, deepening; some fierce primeval thing alive since the age of dinosaurs, giving throat to the joy in sheer physical power and riding the edge of destruction. It was becoming hard to breathe, the air ripping past her face so hard her ribs ached with the effort of pulling it in. Fingers and slapping hands of air played rough with her hair, up her shirt, up her bra, up her shorts and panties. Her shoulders would ache the next morning but now she bounced and yanked at the straps, kicking her feet, nearly tumbling herself ass over teakettle back up onto his roof, screaming and laughing so hard tears streamed up her forehead. 

He began to slow – so gradually she almost didn’t notice at first – just before things would have become painfully uncomfortable. Had that really been six minutes? How could it be over already? How could it at the same time feel like she’d been up there for hours? 

There was a bounce and a low grumble and a sudden flip and things beneath and behind her _moved_ and she was all at once back inside his cabin, plopped onto the driver’s seat breathless and tousled and his safety straps nowhere to be seen. He must have opened his windshield and pulled her inside – the thing did split to form his chest when in robot mode. That was kind of cheating but she was okay with it. The seatbelt snicked itself around her waist and over her shoulder. Just as well since her hands were shaking so bad now she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to latch it herself. 

“How fast?” she gasped, once she had enough air for it. 

“Hmm. 80 miles per hour.”

“EIGHTY!” she crowed, pumping a fist and kicking her feet (carefully not kicking any part of him). 

“I submit that any faster, unprotected, and your eyes especially might have been damaged.”

“Oh god yeah! I’ll definitely need goggles ne—…uh, I mean, you know, goggles or a helmet would have been a good idea. Definitely. Optimus…” She wrapped her hands tight around his wheel, leaning forward, staring out the windshield but not seeing the desert. “Optimus, thank you so much! Thank you!”

“I hesitate to offer you welcome,” he said, somehow managing to be both grave and just the teensiest bit merry at the same time, “but I am glad that you enjoyed your experience without mishap.”

She suspected, from his tone, that she’d taken about 50,000 years off his life. “I… No one saw us, right?”

“No.”

Of course not. That would have been pretty bad press, considering. Endangering native squishies. Reckless behavior unbefitting a Prime. “And you asked Ratchet about adrenaline earlier, but no-one else actually knows, right?”

“No.” 

How many layers of meaning could be pressed into one syllable? How come a giant robot who’d only been on the planet a couple of months could put all the possible layers in without breaking a sweat? All the layers. _Damn._ “Okay, then. Can it…can this be, like, our secret then?”

“Do you wish Ratchet sworn in on this matter as well?”

“Yeah. When we get back to the base he can pinkie-promise with both of us. Okay?”

“Understood,” he said, and his engine – and her heart – sang.


End file.
